Eyes On The Prize
70 x 50 cm. (27.6" x 19.7")
Available · inquire for pricing · email: robert@nitiredjo.com
A lone majestic hunter hovers high above the rolling hills. The clouds churn and drift around it, heavy with motion and uncertainty. Yet the bird remains steady. Its focus stays locked on a single point below.
It’s the signature move of the kestrel. They appear to hang motionlessly in the air, leaning into the wind for lift while scanning the ground below for prey. It’s a fascinating hunting technique that allows them to keep their heads perfectly still, even with turbulence all around. Watching it, I’m reminded of Seijaku, a Japanese Zen principle that describes a kind of active calm: stillness not because the world is quiet, but because the mind is intentional.
Seijaku isn’t about escaping life’s storms. It’s about meeting them with presence. The kestrel doesn’t resist the wind or argue with the sky.
It simply accepts what’s happening and works with it. Its stillness isn’t passive; it’s alert, deliberate, alive.
Life moves in seasons, bright days, dark days, and everything in between. The real question isn’t whether challenges will come. They always do. The question is how we choose to meet them. We don’t control the sky. But we do control our stance. When we cling to resistance, we drain ourselves fighting what can’t be changed. When we settle into the present moment, we give ourselves room to respond instead of react.
True calm doesn’t come from perfect conditions. It comes from learning to stay steady when the sky grows heavy. Like the kestrel, we keep our eyes on the prize, not by shutting out the storm, but by learning how to hover inside it.
"True calm is not found in perfect conditions, but in our ability to remain fully present when the sky grows heavy."
